“Half of farming’s watchin’,” said the old man cryptically, dragging a dead alder bough across the path. Then his placid glance passed slowly over the cattle scattered about the field.
“Are you sure she’ll be all right?”
“Why not? She seems to be doing nicely. You wouldna like ta be bothered at that business; less disturbance the better.”
Flo did not know where to look. The thoughts started by his plain statement made her feel ashamed, and more excited, yet awed. She was silent, wondering what it would be like to have another life inside herself, and whether it really hurt. Would it hurt Jenny? Why had she gone in there?
“Do they always go away like that?”
“Ay; I reckon it’s instinct . . . t’others ’ud be that inquisitive, oo’d have no chance.”
Flo realized that she was being as bad for inquisitiveness as he said the other cattle would have been had they known. She determined not to ask any more, but she found it hard to go on in silence sticking willow sticks in.
“They’re non the best sort o’ sticks, these,” said Mr. Nadin, as though he had completely forgotten Jenny. “It’s on’y that they’re handy an’ easy ta get.”
“Why, what’s the matter with them?” asked Flo perfunctorily.
“They’ll prob’bly grow better than the peas; we’re plantin’ a wilier fence!” He gave a throat chuckle, but Flo hardly realized what he meant. She kept glancing towards the dead bough that he had left. The old man worked on steadily, and at last she could keep silent no longer.
“Are you sure it wouldn’t be better if you were there?”
“Nay,” unhurriedly. “It’s a job as they manages very well theirsel’s if they’ve sense. Jenny’s a touchy piece . . . oo’d happen be more upset if I were there.”
“Oo, I’d sooner have someone,” exclaimed Flo. She stopped, colouring, but the farmer went on with his work.
“They’ve made it inta a big business naa-adays,” he remarked thoughtfully. “Doctors an’ nurses an’ twilight sleep, or whatever they call it; but I dunna know as anybody’s any better. It’s a nat’ral thing, an’ I reckon as nature knows best road . . . whether it’s human beings or beasts.”
For a few moments Flo forgot Jenny in thinking about this. No, she decided, she’d have doctors and nurses, or she wouldn’t feel safe; probably she wouldn’t feel safe even then. She wondered how long it would be before she had a baby; would she ever have one? Did she really want one? She shuddered again as she imagined movement inside herself, movement over which she would have no control; movement with no consideration about what hurt it might cause.
“Do they always manage all right when they’re left?” she demanded so unexpectedly that the farmer, who was thinking that he ought to have soaked the peas in red-lead to keep mice off, straightened and looked at her curiously.
“Does what manage . . .? Oh, Jenny you mean? Eh, we’ll take a peep as we goo back.”
He worked for half an hour longer, then slowly led towards the pathway. Part-dusk had come on them almost unawares, and there was a hush everywhere. The cattle had ceased ripping grass and were lying down; even the blackbirds and thrushes seemed to have grown tired earlier than usual, preferring to save their song for four o’clock in the morning. Flo, without knowing, walked on tiptoes. As they got nearer Mr. Nadin went more gently, and he lifted the bough as if he were an eavesdropper. Flo was startled by a moan, a moan of such abject pain that her heart hesitated in its beat. Jenny lay flat on her side, her head extended on a tussock. Again she moaned weakly, and the moan was a question as to why she should have such pain. Flo wanted to run and kneel and comfort her, but Mr. Nadin was in front with his arm crooked before her. From his attitude she gathered that all he wanted her to do was keep still and silent. He knelt with ease and quietude which at any other time might have surprised her. Dimly in the poor light she saw protruding from the womb the rear half of a red and white calf. Its legs were bunched inward, not yet released. She had expected to see a head and stood tense, wondering if the calf were dead. Her impulse to comfort Jenny was forgotten; she was absorbed in staring. The farmer spoke soothingly: “Steady lass, steady; try agen.”
He clasped the calf gently in his large hands. Jenny moaned again, unaware of watchers, entirely occupied with pain. The muscles of the womb contracted and relaxed and the farmer tenderly and skilfully manipulated and pulled. Despite her intentness, Flo was surprised all at once to see the calf whole, large-headed, sleekly wet and foolish looking. But it was alive, for it moved its head, feebly experimenting with the space and freedom which it was just beginning to sense vaguely all round. Jenny stirred, relieved, attempting to look round. The farmer lifted the soft ungainly youngster and, moving carefully, placed it where Jenny could touch it. She smelt it curiously, briefly, half afraid, then abruptly turning her head away blew through her nostrils. A spasm passed over her as if she were about to get up, but she did not. She smelt the calf again, more carefully, and gave a tentative lick. The youngster moaned very low, and stirred slightly. Out came Jenny’s tongue once more, laving experimentally, till all at once she seemed to realize the truth and began to lick with eager thoroughness. The calf moaned a second time, as if complaining, but Jenny took no notice, continuing industriously.
“She’ll do; good lady,” said Mr. Nadin, moving gently away.
“Shall you leave her?” asked Flo, incredulous, feeling a longing in her fingers to caress the calf.
“Ay, we can move her in the mornin’,” said the farmer complacently.
Unwillingly Flo followed. The bush was dragged into place and they went on through the dusk towards the house.
“Shall you go first thing?” asked Flo, still inquisitive and eager. “I wish I could go.”
“It’ll be all over; there’ll be nothing then,” he answered, beginning to put on his indoors moroseness.
In bed Flo lay awake for more than an hour thinking of Jenny and her calf in the willows, and then her mind accepted thoughts too intimate for any other time and condition than night and isolation. She felt that she had grown older, and that she would never be quite so carefree and thoughtless as she had been before. She woke to the first jangle of the bell, and instantly again thought of Jenny. She dressed hurriedly and went down quickly but as silent as she could, and slipped past the partly closed kitchen door into the yard. The farmer in the half-light was surrounded by cattle moving slowly in from Three Oaks over the lane. He swung up both arms suddenly, shooing dalliers into the right doorways.
“Ha . . . have you been to Jenny yet?” Flo asked hesitantly.
“Non yet; after milking.”
She sped back and took up her duties. Her milking had improved steadily and she did five or six every morning, according to how Bert and Clem worked. This morning she was under her sixth when the farmer came up the gangway and asked how long she would be. She had only just begun. Clem was balancing his stool over the wooden harness peg that did as a rack. The farmer asked him to finish for her.
“Where you goin’; ta see the new cawfe?” He grinned and winked at Flo. His attitude sullied her excitement. “What is it?”he asked.
“Bull,” Mr. Nadin answered, laconic.
“God, another! Ten out of the last bloody fourteen. What the hell . . .?”
But the farmer was leading into the yard. Full light had come quickly, or so it seemed to Flo after her stay in the shippon. The pasture was marked with darker green tracks where the cattle had walked through the grey dew.
“Why didn’t she come up with the rest?” asked Flo.
“I brought them up myself so she wouldna be disturbed,” the farmer explained. He went in a line for the alder bough, but when they went through, the nest was empty. They saw marks of the birth and slotted prints where Jenny must have stepped not long before, the prints clear, not yet filled with moisture. They went through on to the shelving beach, and to the right was Jenny with the calf nosing for paps under her forelegs. On catching sight of them Jenny started away, nearly bowling the unsteady youngster over. It recovered and went jerkily after her as if all its legs were stilts.